


1.03 Grief

by Thatonesleepy



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonesleepy/pseuds/Thatonesleepy
Summary: In the wake of his loss, Bardyl goes on a hunt. Blinded by anger, he must face what it means to be left behind.
Kudos: 1





	1.03 Grief

The Tower was more or less rebuilt to working order. It was astounding how much work could be done in a week or two’s time with the full force of reinvigorated Guardians behind it. Bardyl didn’t care, however. He had two reasons for coming back here. First he had to find the Commander. He stopped anyone who would listen to him, asking where he might find him. Nobody seemed to know. A few suggested the main Promenade, some suggested the new hangar. Others still said Ikora had taken to setting up near the New Monarchy settlement through a walkway they all pointed to. He stalked from one to the next, finding nothing. 

Eventually, someone pointed him in the direction of Zavala’s new office. Bardyl made his way down to it. He had never liked the Vanguard much, it was just another governing body that would probably fall to corruption or fail to protect in its most trying hour. The Red War seemed to prove him right on some level. He didn’t relish that fact. Their failure, the failure of every Light bearing being cost him dearly. When he knocked on the door, Bardyl drew a blank on what he would do if he was answered. Later, he supposed that lack of planning is what drove him to do what he did.

As soon as Zavala opened the doors to his office, Bardyl threw a punch at him. It was sloppy, blind, and easily dodged. Without thinking or even truly seeing, he continued his assault, launching a kick at the Awoken’s side. His foot was caught and he was pinned to the ground. Rather, he would have been pinned if he wasn’t as acrobatic as many Hunters are. He used the momentum of Zavala trying to get him to the ground to swing his body up and twist both of them around so he landed on top of the Commander. Bardyl gripped the fabric around Zavala’s collar, his fists crackling with blue energy.

“Where are they?” He growled.

“Who?” Zavala responded, his voice level.

“The one who saved us. The Hero.”

“I don’t know. They could be anywhere in the system, other planets need help cleaning up.” 

As they spoke, Zavala discreetly slid an alarm remote from the inside of his gauntlet and pressed a button. Elsewhere in the new Tower a couple of Praxic Warlocks began to make their way to the office. 

“Why? What do you want with them?” Zavala asked.

“They stole something from me.” Bardyl answered, getting up.

As he was about to turn around he felt his limbs stiffen and his sight dimmed. The last thing he made out before he blacked out was the Cormorant Seal on two rather angry looking Warlocks.

|

Bardyl sat in a cell, guarded by the two Guardians that had detained him in Zavala’s office. Harpalyte was presumably in another room entirely, if the Praxic Order’s reputation preceded them. He kept trying to melt the bindings on his wrists, but for some reason it proved rather difficult. A third Warlock sat in the cell with him. She was asking him questions that he ignored. 

“Why do you want to find the Hero of the Red War?”

He could make sparks and summon Arc Light with no problem. He hadn’t tried Void, but Solar seemed to elude him more than it should have. 

“Why did you assault the Commander?”

He didn’t have an issue with it before. Maybe it was the heat of the moment that caused his ability. He wondered.

“Do you know the position you’re in?” 

That question was harsher than the last few. He didn’t care much. Either he’d make it out of here and start hunting down the bastard that robbed him of death or he would be executed and get what he wanted.

“Bardyl-2.”

This time Zavala had spoken. He hadn’t been there before, though Bardyl was staring at the ground, so he wouldn’t have seen him enter the holding area.

“I heard about what happened. We’re getting reports about various things every day. Your loss was reported a few days ago. I thought it was just another casualty of the War, but I looked into it more. Your Ghost, Harpalyte… she’s worried about you Bardyl. I saw the footage. All of it.”

Bardyl looked up and stared into Zavala’s eyes. Neither of their faces betrayed what had been done. 

“I’d imagine she is. What of it?” he said.

“I want to talk with you. If you’re willing to be less hostile, we can speak alone.”

The interrogating Warlock whipped around at this.

“No, Commander, he’s dangerous. He’s already attacked you once, what makes you think he won’t do it again?”

“Because you’ll be standing outside of my office.” He said, still looking at the Exo Hunter.

|

“So. What do you want to talk about? My punishment? My exile?” Bardyl asked flatly.

“We,” Zavala sighed, “we lost a lot of good people in these past few months. I nearly lost my two closest friends. I lost hope.” 

Their eyes met for a moment, where Bardyl saw sadness and resignation, Zavala saw rage and resentment.

“Hope? You lost hope? You _almost_ lost your friends? I lost _my wife_. I don’t give a shit about why you’re sad, I couldn’t care less that you feel bad that you couldn’t properly do your job. This War did not cost us the same thing.”

His words were meant to hurt. He spat them at the Commander, he wanted to drive a knife which had been plunged months prior. The reaction he got was not what he expected.

“You’re right. I failed. We all failed, Cayde, Ikora, and I. We should have been more prepared, and there’s no excuse for what happened. But I need you to understand something Bardyl. What you lost, what countless others lost, cannot be brought back. No amount of hunting or vengeful acts can make that happen. I’m willing to let what you’ve done slide. I know what needs to be known and I saw why you did what you did. But I need to know that it won’t happen again.” He paused for a few seconds, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust the word of a Hunter I barely know, so I’m assigning you to meet with Ikora. She’ll help you with your struggles.”

He got up and looked out onto the City. Dusk was beginning to settle, casting everything into the surreal haze between day and night. The sky still held a mix of blue and red, but the City itself was a silhouette of itself. Clouds hung above and around the Traveler, illuminated by the nearly set sun and the luminous haze seeping out of it. Bardyl stared at the Traveler, wondering whether it actually cared about anything around it. He got up to leave, still fixated on finding the Young Wolf and putting an end to this one way or another. As he reached the door, Zavala spoke one last time, quietly enough that the Exo failed to hear him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

|

Bardyl made his way down to the Bazaar, hoping to get his meditation time over with as quickly as possible. As he approached the Warlock Vanguard, she spoke to him despite looking out toward the City. 

“Zavala tells me you need guidance, let’s go down and walk.”

He stopped. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Walks tended to be long, especially when they’re done in the streets below the Traveler. He didn’t like being around mortal people outside of the Tower, they always looked at him oddly. He began to object but was cut off.

“Your Ghost is still locked up. If you have any intention of freeing her, you’ll come walk with me and we’ll chat.”

They made their way down to the City the long way. Ordinarily there were elevators and transmat points that could be taken, but Ikora led her charge down a great many flights of stairs. Neither spoke on their way down. When they reached the final few steps, Ikora broke the silence. 

“Have you calmed down?”

Bardyl nearly stopped walking. He had calmed down somewhat, in fact. He still felt like crap, but he wasn’t particularly angry anymore. 

“Good. We can talk then.” she said, seemingly reading his mind.

“What about?” 

“Anything, really. It is night time, the time of truths. I’m not looking for anything in particular from you. Simply convince me that you can be trusted with freedom.”

He couldn’t. At least not as far as he was concerned. His intentions wouldn’t be changed by a few talks and a slap on the wrist. So he told her just that.

“I can’t be. It’s that simple. What makes you leaders think things can be fixed with some words and leisure?”

“It works from time to time. You’re old, Bardyl. You’ve been around far longer than a great many Guardians. You’re older than I am, I’m sure. Considering your position, if the records from Harpalyte are true, you very well might be considered the oldest Guardian alive. Why throw it away? I understand love, we’ve all been affected by it. I can understand losing those you hold closest to you.” 

She stopped talking, seemingly in the middle of a thought. They walked in silence for a moment. Bardyl’s cloak dragged along the pavement, their bootfalls echoed off the buildings. It had rained today. Puddles congealed where they could; where they couldn’t, the ground was reflective and dark. The smell of wet stone hung in the air and a chilled wind drifted against the two. He tried to make a spark between his fingers. He failed.

“Do you know what I did when the Tower fell?” Ikora asked.

Bardyl thought. He knew Ikora’s reputation, he didn’t want to start any sort of fight with a bad choice of words.

“It’s okay. I’m not as monstrous as some of the stories tell.”

“You ran.” he mumbled in response.

“Yes. I ran.” 

She stopped and looked up to the Traveler. He looked at the pavement. What was left of his anger had begun to cool into something much worse.

“In what religious texts we have, scattered throughout various libraries, there is a common practice found. It’s given a different name depending on the religion, but generally it is called a Pilgrimage. It was a practice where the worshiper would travel to the land they considered to be holiest. This land would differ depending on who they worshipped, but many of them had something of the sort. We do not worship the Traveler, at least not outright. There are sects that do consider it divine, but they are small and few in number. I ran when it was caged. I went on something comparable to a pilgrimage I believe. I went to the last place the Traveler touched before The Collapse. I had hoped to glean something from Io. Do you know what I found?”

“Taken. Vex. An injured madman.”

“I suppose I did find those things, but more than that I found a bit of clarity. The Guardian you mean to hunt gave me that. Not the Light that lies there, not the adversaries, and certainly not Asher. The Cabal stole much from us. There were Guardians all over the system that did not know what was happening. You lost your wife just as we won, but many more lost theirs at the outset. Some may have fallen shortly after as you intended to.”

She began to walk again. Bardyl had begun to listen somewhere in there and watched her as they walked.

“Tell me Bardyl, what would River have wanted you to do? I don’t mean in terms of living your life or exacting revenge. I mean in this specific instance. Would she condone your pursuit of the Young Wolf?”

It was a question and a sentiment he had not stopped to think about. A kind of cold wrenched at his chest. He almost choked when we tried to speak.

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“Then why do you?”

“Because I want…” 

He couldn’t think of what to say. He didn’t know what he wanted at this point. 

“I miss her.”

“I know.” 

The rest of their time together was spent in silence. Ikora’s company and the ambient sounds of the night were the only comforts Bardyl felt as he reflected on his actions in the past few weeks. At some point they had set back on a path to the Tower. This time they transmatted up to the Promenade. Ikora said her goodbyes and thanked him for the walk before making her way back to the Bazaar. 

“Wait, Ikora! What now?” he called after her.

“Harpalyte will be with you shortly. Do whatever you will Bardyl.” she called back without turning or stopping.

|

His Ghost materialised next to him while he leaned against the railing, gazing at the ivory orb and thinking about the day. 

“What now?” She asked.

“We find them. I haven’t changed my mind, I still want to find them.”

Harpalyte worried about his intentions, but his voice didn’t hold the edge it had recently. He sounded more resigned than before.

“I’ll pull the ship around-”

“No,” he interrupted, “Let’s go down to the Hangar, I think Cayde will be able to help.”

As soon as he descended the last steps he heard Cayde greet him.

“Hey buddy! Long time, no see! What’s got you here? I don’t handle work anymore, you gotta talk to Zavala about that one.” He said.

“Not today. I need help finding someone.” 

“Oooooo, a hunt! Who’re you looking for?”

“Your favorite Hunter.”

“Well that’s easy, I’m talking to him.”

“The Young Wolf, Cayde. Do you know where they might be?”

The Hunter Vanguard watched the other Exo carefully for a moment. He had gotten word from Zavala that he might get paid a visit and what the visit might entail.

“Yeah, I have an idea. Be straight with me though, you aren’t planning on doing anything you’ll regret, are ya?”

“No. I won’t regret it. I’m sure of that.”

Cayde nodded and tossed a small pad to Bardyl.

“I’ve always got tabs on that one, too important to lose. Make sure you bring that back to me, you hear? Those things aren’t cheap.”

Bardyl nodded and set off deeper into the Hangar.

|

The pad led them to the Caloris Basin on Mercury. Bardyl had only been here a handful of times, with permission. It seemed The Guardian was as busy as usual, surely stopping some new threat while Bardyl did nothing of note. He drove his ship as close as he could to the pinpoint of the pad and dropped down to the surface. It was hot and sandy. Two of his least favorite things. 

While he followed the map, he pulled the collar of his cloak up and around his helmet, trying to shield himself from as much heat and sun as he could. Burning winds whipped at him and his feet slipped from the dunes every few steps. Ordinarily he would have simply leaped over them, but his legs felt heavy. His mood was declining every minute he had to spend on this wretched planet. Soon he spotted the Lighthouse, which was where he seemed to be on course to. 

A few minutes and a handful of increasingly difficult jumps later, he stood inside the towering structure, staring at the Hero of The Red War speaking to Brother Vance. He didn’t move or even think about what he was going to do. He just stared. He felt his fists tighten but he wasn’t angry. He felt slightly weak all of a sudden. The other Guardian had stopped talking to Vance and was walking toward Bardyl, seemingly unaware of his staring. When they were close enough Bardyl grabbed the Young Wolf’s collar and cocked a fist. No light surrounded his fists.

A brief moment passed which felt like an eternity for Bardyl. He stood in the heat of the moment and Mercury one fist gripping fabric, the other hoisted in the air ready to strike. The placid visor of the other Lightbearer betrayed nothing. He felt nothing in return. In an instant Bardyl fell to his knees and held onto what he could of the Young Wolf. His words were a mix of defeat and acid, words he couldn’t spit because they choked him on their way out. 

“Why did you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you save us when you did?”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I could have died. I could have been with her. I miss her so much.”

Bardyl felt a hand close around one of his upper arms and try to pull him up. Slowly he got back to his feet. The helmet that looked back at him was as expressionless as it could be. The Young Wolf hugged him then. It was shocking, but over quickly. Afterwards, Bardyl felt hands clasp his shoulders and watched the other Guardian nod at him before moving on with their activities. 

He stood there for longer than he intended to. Staring at the ground or perhaps simply spacing out. A weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders. He walked back through the Vex gate and had Harpalyte take them to orbit. He sat in his cockpit, remaining dumbfounded by what happened. He played with a small fireball he managed to conjure absentmindedly.

“Perhaps a strike will ease you? Should I see if there are any to go on?” Harpalyte asked him.

Bardyl jolted as if he had been asleep. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” He stammered out.

It was over. His hunt for vengeance was done and he felt empty. He wasn’t angry or sad anymore. It was time to continue living.


End file.
